


friday, i'm in love

by bbyfruit



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, every kind of fluff, its all fluff because i'm a gay mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:31:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyfruit/pseuds/bbyfruit
Summary: five times over the course of one day that isak falls in love a little bit more, plus one time he talks about it.





	friday, i'm in love

**i.**

“We seriously have to get ready,” Even says into his ear. The vibrations from his voice thud through Isak’s fingertips, electric pulses up his arm and into his chest, waking him up slowly.

“I just want to sleep, though,” Isak groans as he pulls the blanket over his head.

Even tucks his nose into the spot between Isak’s jaw and his neck. His lips move against the soft skin there, and Isak waits for him to say something sweet, something like, _of course, baby, you deserve it_ , but instead Even just says, “You’re going to fuck up your ten percent.”

“Fuck you, I could talk my way to fifteen.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Even says nonchalantly, and Isak cracks an eye open. “But you’d have to actually get out of bed first.”

With that Even is gone, Isak’s hands wrapped around nothing more than empty space. He’s still half-asleep enough to let out a sound that sounds like a pterodactyl getting stepped on.

“Get up!” Even yells from their kitchen.

Isak just - fuck, it’s so warm. It’s not his fault. His eyelids are just so heavy, and he always sleeps better in the light, wrapped with the blanket tucked under his chin. He feels himself drifting off.

It’s nice until his eyes are pried open with familiar fingers.

“Even, please,” Isak says, burrowing further into the bed.

Lips ghost his cheek. Isak closes his eyes again.

Even yanks the duvet off, pulling it to the floor, and Isak yells, scrunches his eyes closed, and curls up even tighter. He fucking hates that Even’s a morning person.

He opens his eyes and, yeah, maybe he doesn’t hate it _that_ much, because Even is standing in front of the window with sunlight shining over his bare shoulders and he’s glowing inside and out, and it’s one of those moments that stops all time, in all parallel universes. Fuck. It’s one of those moments where Isak falls in love all over again.

He loves Even.

**ii.**

Isak’s leaning against Even, sitting on the steps with Magnus and Mahdi before class starts.

“Oy!” Magnus choruses, and before Isak has a chance to shoot him a dirty look, Magnus’s finger is pressing into the hickey on his neck.

“Shut the fuck up,” Isak says with an eye roll. He shrinks back into Even, whose warm laugh is making heads turn.

“Aw,” Even says, “he’s still sleepy.”

Isak pulls away from Even dramatically. “You can shut the fuck up, too.”

“You guys are disgusting,” Magnus tells them lovingly, and Isak can’t help what he’s about to say -

“Speaking of disgusting,” he says calmly, looking around, “isn’t Vilde around here somewhere?”

Mahdi cracks up, leaning backwards, one hand over his stomach. Magnus slings his backpack over his shoulder and leaves. Isak feels a little bad, but, really, he just wants to chill. And someone needed to tell Magnus that exchanging coffee like that was _not_ fucking okay.

“That was harsh,” Even laughs with one hand in Isak’s hair. Isak shrugs.

“Karma’s a bitch,” he says, twisting his mouth, and Even kisses the corner of his lips, and he breaks into a full smile.

“What was that for?”

“Why do you always ask that?” Even asks, looking at him fondly. “Sometimes I just want to kiss the man of my life.”

Isak kicks him in the shin.

“Oh!” Even says. “What was _that_ for?”

Isak raises his eyebrows in a mimicry of Even and imitates him, saying, “Why do you always ask that? Sometimes you deserve to be kicked.”

Even laughs again. Isak gets a warm feeling in his chest, right below his heart, and holy _shit_ is he in love. With the arm around his shoulder and the eyes on his and the banter and the fact that his toe is a little sore from kicking Even - he’s in love with everything to do with Even.

“Okay,” Even says, standing up. “I actually have class.” He bends over to kiss Isak goodbye, a hand on either side of his cheeks.

“See you at lunch?” Isak asks. He knows the answer’s yes, but he wants to hear it anyways.

“Of course,” Even says, walking backwards. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Isak says back, glancing down at his phone to see if Jonas has texted back, and he even loves _that_ , loves that things are so easy that saying that they love each other is casual, and everything comes naturally, words that he doesn’t have to hold back. It’s simple, really - Even loves him.

And he loves Even.

**iii.**

“Sanasol,” Isak says with a smile as Sana approaches the table he’s sitting at with the boys. She smiles back in that certain way she has, her lips tucking into her cheeks to show her dimples.

“Hi. Did you finish the assignment?”

“The one with the equations?”

“Way to be specific, but yeah, that one,” she says, raising her eyebrows.

“Yeah,” Isak says, “wanna sit and go over it now?”

Sana sits down next to him, pulling out a binder full of papers, and begins to rifle through it.

“Did you get number four? With the magnesium?” Isak asks. “Because I think mine was -”

He breaks off, staring at something over Sana’s shoulder, and she slowly raises her head.

“What… just happened?” she says.

“Oh,” Mahdi nods over his plate of waffles. “They’re doing the thing.”

“The thing?” Sana asks skeptically.

“The thing where they stare at each other really fucking dramatically for no reason,” Jonas chimes in.

Isak can clearly hear everything they’re saying and a part of him wants to defend himself, but a bigger part just continues to stare as Even walks across the cafeteria, slow and agonizing, one earbud in and his eyes never leaving Isak’s, time inching to a stop around them.

“Hi, baby,” Even says, planting a kiss on his cheekbone and sitting on his left side.

“Hi,” Isak grins back, and the world spins back into sync.

“The thing,” Sana repeats. She shakes her head with a fond smile and delves right back into their previous conversation, starting by telling Isak all the ways he went wrong answering number four.

“No, look, you have to balance that first,” Isak argues.

Beside him, Even says, “Jonas, did you get a chance to watch that film?”

And right there is another thing Isak loves. He hasn’t even known Even for a year, but here he is fitting in seamlessly with Isak’s friends. He loves that right now, they can sit with Even’s hand in Isak’s back pocket ( _fucking hell_ ) and carry on two completely different conversations. He loves that when Even tilts his head just the right way with just the right smile, Isak knows he’s asking to go and make out in some classroom.

He loves Even.

**iv.**

Isak is not pleased with how the test went. He drags his feet on the way back home, going over and over what he could have done, _should_ have done, and he’s frustrated with himself.

“You okay?” Even asks quietly.

Isak nods. “Yeah. I’m just pissed about that test. You?”

Even smiles at him, soft and solid as they reach the door of their apartment. “I’m good.”

“That’s chill,” Isak whispers into Even’s shoulder when Even pulls him into a hug.

“That’s chill,” Even says. “Want to make some food before everyone comes over?”

“Cheese toasties?” Isak asks, already feeling lighter as they move up the stairs, because this apartment is his safe place, full of Even and light and love and comfort. The stress of the day melts away the closer they get.

It’s not long before Isak is perched on the counter as Even cooks. Even’s dancing to the shitty 2000’s pop on the radio, trying to engage Isak in his antics, singing.

“- working on my fitness, he’s my witness,” Even says with his finger pointing at Isak.

“ _Ooowooo_ ,” he obliges, eyes rolling, and Even laughs.  

Ever since they moved in together, it’s been harder for Isak to hide things about himself. There are weeks where he sleeps less than Even, surrounded by papers and textbooks, and he likes school, deep down he really does, except sometimes, yeah, it’s a lot. Sometimes he pushes himself too far and his brain feels on edge and Even tugs at his arm to pull him back to bed, but he doesn’t feel prepared. No matter what, he always feels like he could be doing more. So when there’s nothing else for him to do but he still thinks something is _missing_ , Even distracts him. Even sings to him and makes him food and dances. It’s the best way to help Isak. Isak returns the favor as best he can - he holds Even and whispers stories about the stars in his ear, and that’s the best way to help Even.

“Cardamom?” Even asks, gently bringing Isak out of the loop in his head.

Isak hops off the counter and kisses Even sweetly. “No way,” he says as he steps around Even, “that was fucking disgusting.”

“What?” Even places one hand over his chest and feigns offense. “You come into _my_ home and call _my_ cheese toasties disgusting?”

“First off,” Isak says, leaning on the edge of their little kitchen table, “this is _my_ home too. And second, yeah, I do.”

Even moves towards him, holding a plate of food, and suddenly they’re dancing around each other in the small space, teasing, Even’s lips just barely brushing Isak’s as he says, “Wow. So you’re not even going to deny it.”

The options here are pretty clear. He can either keep joking and flirting until neither of them can take it anymore, or he can give into the inevitable now, kiss Even like he wants to, in a way that tells Even just how fucking grateful Isak feels for everything that Even is; with his fingers pressing into the back of Even’s neck and the taste of Even on his tongue.

It’s also pretty clear which option Isak chooses, because, let’s face it: as much as Isak may _like_ the playful back-and-forth, really, really, really,

he loves Even.

**v.**

“Isak!” Magnus slurs from his pregame place on their couch. “Come drink, man!”

Isak shakes his head and gestures to the soda he’s holding in his left hand, saying, “I’m trying to cut back.”

Mags boos loudly before he loses interest, turning his attention back to his drink. He moves to more pressing topics - “Wait,” he says, eyes wide with realization, “shit, have you guys fucked on here?”

Okay, yeah, after that, Isak kind of wishes he’s drinking now. He tips back the soda regardless, deciding not to dignify Magnus with a response, and he can only hope that Even didn’t hear, because there’s no way he’d let it slide.

“Are you on the couch?” Even calls from the kitchen.

“Yes,” Magnus says skeptically.

“Which side?” Even asks. Isak narrows his eyes. He can tell by the tone of Even’s voice that he’s gearing up for a joke, something that took him a while to learn and he’s very proud of.

“The left.”

There’s a silence from the kitchen. “Does the cushion… have a stain?”

“ _Fuck_ ing hell,” Magnus shrieks, hurtling off the couch fast enough to make Isak raise his eyebrows through his laughter.

Even walks back in with a falsely innocent expression on his face. “I’m kidding,” he says cheerfully, pausing to kiss Isak’s hair before adding, “about the stain.” Isak almost chokes on his drink.

“What’s going on in there?” Jonas yells from the bedroom where he and Mahdi are playing FIFA, and Magnus leaves to join them, rambling on about Even.

“Hi,” Even says quietly once they’re alone.

“Hi,” Isak says back, his eyes half closed as he tilts his head up for a kiss.

Even looks at him, face slightly drawn. “Were you serious about cutting back on drinking?”

“Yeah,” Isak says, glancing down at the can. “I’m not even legal yet,” he jokes.

Even shoots him a look. “That’s never stopped you before.”

Isak shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “I had a reason to drink before. I don’t now.”

He thumbs at the seam on his jeans, still feeling the gentle weight of Even’s eyes, Jonas’s familiar voice filtering down the hallway, and it feels overwhelmingly like _home_.

“Like,” Isak starts to explain, “I used to get drunk so that I could make out with girls, but I’m not… not that person anymore. I don’t need to do that. I’m not fake now, you know?”

Isak finds himself waiting, holding his breath and listening for Even to say something. He sneaks a glance up at him and is struck by the expression on his face. It’s a beautiful mix of admiration and sadness, love and respect, joy and protection, and Isak’s heart just about leaps out of his chest, because Jesus Christ, just when he thinks he can’t love Even any more, something happens and his body thrums from head to toe, all his bones whispering _yes, this is where you were always meant to end up._ It’s all just a very dramatic way to say something that boils down to three words.

He loves Even.

**+i.**

Knocking at the door wakes Isak up, and he hits Even in the chest with his knuckles, burrowing his head in the pillow.

“What,” Even mutters.

Isak pushes at his shoulder and whines, “Door, Evi.”

“Fuck,” Even says, but he gets up, and Isak can hear him shuffling around and grabbing pants off the floor.

Sighing back into the pillow, Isak almost forgets about whoever’s at the door, laying in the limbo between being awake and being asleep, waiting for Even to come back and wrap his arms around him.

He rolls over suspiciously when he hears voices. Who the _fuck_ did Even let in their home at this hour?

Isak extracts himself from the bed regretfully, shivering against the cold of the floor. He throws on one of Even’s hoodies and a pair of sweatpants.

The whole situation is considerably less confusing once Isak hears Eskild’s voice, ringing strong and dramatic off the walls of the apartment.

“Your guru’s here,” Even says, smiling over at Isak.

Isak keeps his eyes narrowed. “I see.”

Even walks past him, dropping a kiss on his bottom lip and a hand on his hip, saying, “I’m going to go grab some breakfast for us.”

“Put a shirt on,” Isak says.

“As you wish,” Even answers immediately, and Isak definitely regrets suggesting that they watch The Princess Bride last week, because Even hasn’t shut up since.

On his way back to the bedroom, Even yells over his shoulder, “Eskild? The usual order?”

“Of course,” Eskild grins, “my favorite son.”

“Why are you here,” Isak says, dead flat with his head angled sideways.

Eskild looks at him with wide eyes. “I just needed some quality time with my baby gay.”

Isak’s eyes roll so hard he thinks that this might be the time that they actually _do_ get stuck like that. Even swings back in as he tugs at the hem of his shirt and kisses Isak again, slow and soft and saying goodbye.

“Be nice to Eskild and I’ll bring you the pastry you like,” he says, smiling as he walks backwards and closes the front door on Isak’s offended noise.

The door cracks open almost the instant it shuts.

“Isak?”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” Even says, his head and shoulders the only parts of him visible.

“I’ll love you when you bring me food,” Isak says back, but he smiles sweet enough that Even knows he doesn’t mean it.

“Be nice!” Even calls again, and he’s gone for real, leaving Isak alone with Eskild, who leans forward conspiratorially and props himself up on his elbows.

“So,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Spill.”

“Spill what?”

“Hello? New details! How in love are you?”

Isak rolls his eyes again. He’s covering it up, but he really did miss Eskild since he saw him last week, and he actually does like these little opportunities to gush.

“Very,” he admits, and Eskild pouts happily. “It’s just like, every day it’s more, you know? Like yesterday I swear I fell in love like five times, and it’s different each time. And living together has been amazing because, like, the more I learn about him the more I love him? If that makes sense. Which it kind of doesn’t, because each time I think I love him the most, it just… happens again. So, yeah. Very.”

He’s lost sight of Eskild while he talked, staring down at his hands pushed into the pockets of the hoodie, and once he quiets, he continues to avoid eye contact. What can he say? Old habits die hard.

Eskild wraps him in a bear hug from behind, shoves his face into Isak’s hair, and holds him tight.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says. Isak can’t figure out if he should crack a joke around the lump in his throat, but before he gets the chance, Eskild continues, saying, “You know I love you, right? Not in the way Even loves you, but I’m so happy for you, Isak.”

They stand like that until Isak coughs, hoping Eskild gets the hint.

“No,” Eskild says firmly, and he obviously _does_ get the hint, but just chooses to ignore it. “We’re staying like this.”

“Eskild…” Isak warns. He’s immediately shushed, and that’s how Even finds them: Isak with his arms helplessly pinned to his sides, Eskild smiling wide, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

To his credit, Even doesn’t bat an eye at the scene. He just sets down their coffees and breakfast, smiles wide, and asks, “All good?”

Isak pauses. He’s warm with Eskild’s arms around him, his bare feet solid on the wood floor, Even’s nose slightly red and his eyes scrunched up, and Isak puts all of his love behind the words.

“All good,” he says.

  


**Author's Note:**

> every time i'm sad i write fluff so listen. i write a lot of fluff. sue me!!!!
> 
> title from friday i'm in love by the cure, of course
> 
> send me prompts on [tumblr](https://lesbovilde.tumblr.com) <333


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